Story 318: All I Want for Christmas Is Nothing to Give and Nothing to Get

Dear Santa,

            I am a reasonable human being.  I like to think I have a firm grasp on reality.  So I am not going to mince words with you: this Christmas, I will not ask for one single present, from you or from anyone else, at all, not one.  In return, I only ask that I not be required, requested, and/or obligated to give one single present, to you or to anyone else, at all, not one.

            To put it bluntly, Mr. Claus, I simply cannot take it any longer.  Everyone complains, yet they compulsively do it anyway: you know what I mean, the massive, overwhelming, soul-destroying marathon that is holiday shopping.  Many of us have too much stuff as it is, but there we all go, off to the sales races again.  And so we go through the motions, year after dreaded year, piling into horrendous traffic, piling into overcrowded stores, piling into the worst zeniths of consumerism, stuff, stuff, stuff.  Will all that stuff fill the empty void currently taking up residence in our hearts?   The answer of course is “No,” but most act as if it is “Yes.”

            And as the coins in my piggy bank dwindle, I question the point of the whole thing.  Why do we continue to give gifts if the process of getting them has made the giver so utterly unhappy?  Does the recipient’s brief, passing joy make all that suffering worth it?  I guess.  Still does not make up for the four hours I will never get back from the mass chaos that is the mall.  How is that all of us always decide to go there at the same time, anyway?

            I would also like to discuss the futility of sending holiday cards, but that is too off-topic and would require a ream of paper to address adequately.

           Returning to the issue at hand, I would like to speak to the conundrum of online shopping: convenient for the consumer, perhaps, but inconvenient for the delivery person who now is in the previously mentioned traffic and also for the warehouse employee who has added your order to the 7,322 others waiting to be filled that day.  But it is guaranteed next-day delivery, since unnamed shopper forgot to order it until two days before the main event of Christmas or Hanukkah.

           Not to mention (but I will anyway), I have no idea what to get people, including members of my own family, unless they specifically tell me what they want.  Opera tickets?  A wooden sleigh?  Gift cards for soon-to-be-out-of-business restaurants?  It is exhausting trying to figure out a gift that will not be returned.

            I just cannot bear the stress of it all anymore, so I beg of you: please do not give me anything this year, and let me be relieved of the burden of having to give presents to anyone.  If you are so gracious as to grant this request, I warn you now I may ask for it again next year.

           I write to you every December, and in all my 42 years on this planet I have yet to receive a bona fide response from you or your staff.  I would greatly appreciate it if this year's anti-consumerism theme ended that streak.

                                                                        Always Affectionately Yours,

                                                                        Little Johnny

Story 298: I Never Knew I Needed That in My Life Until I Saw It

            In an all-things store, Shopper wandered up and down the aisles looking for one last item to pick up so that the store’s gift card could finally be finished off and she would never have to go there again.  At the end of the next-to-last aisle there was a small table display that Shopper casually glanced at, then did a double-take as one of items caught her eye.  She slowly and reverently picked it up to hold it closer to her face and read the description.

            “This,” she said after a few moments.  “This.”

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

“What is this?” her father asked from his seat at the kitchen table, picking up the box with neither reverence nor care.

“This,” Shopper replied, snatching the box back, “is a chair.  An all-purpose, full-support, transport-anywhere, sit-anywhere chair.  It folds up in itself so that you can literally tuck it into your pants pocket.  And it’s endorsed by the Army, so there you go.”

“OK, but why?”

“Because they use it maybe?”

“No, I mean why buy it?  What do you need it for?”

“The question you should be asking is, ‘What don’t you need it for?’”

“No, I’d rather hear an answer to the first one.”

“All right: everything!”  She spread her arms to encompass the world and nearly dropped the box in the process.  “I mean, who knows if you’re out somewhere and find yourself thinking, ‘If only I had a chair to sit down on, then all would be well.’  Now, you can have one, ready to go, AT ALL TIMES.”

“I guess, but how often do you think you’ll find yourself in need of a chair?”

“Often enough!  I’m tired of holding up the wall everywhere I go!”

“I doubt you need to that much.”

“Once is too many!  You don’t realize how this seemingly innocuous impulse buy has changed my life!  Observe.”  She pulled the folded-up chair out of the box, flicked it open, snapped the supports into place, and gingerly settled onto the no-backed canvas seat.  “I’ll never have to stand again.”

“Whatever – it looks uncomfortable.”

“It’s built for efficiency not comfort, Dad!”

“I guess.  Can I try it out, then?”

“Sure.”

She stood and her father gingerly sat on the canvas seat.  “Huh,” he commented.

“You see?”

“It could come in handy, I guess.  I do go to a lot of concerts – yes, I think this would do just fine for those – ”

She yanked the chair out from under him; he stumbled but remained on his feet.  Quickly folding up the chair and running upstairs, she shouted down to him: “Get your own super-convenient previously unknown necessity, poacher!”

He settled back onto the kitchen chair.  “Dangit, now that I’ve seen it, I need one.”

Story 292: Undercover Bargain Basement

            (In a mall department store fitting room area)

           Friend 1: (Emerging from one of the rooms in an ill-fitting frock, arms spread out wide to display the disaster; approaches Friend 2 who is seated in a comfy chair in the waiting area) Well????

            Friend 2: (Grimaces) Yeah, not any better than the others.  I actually think it’s a bit worse.

           Friend 1: Gaahh!  What good is a store-specific gift card if nothing in said store fits right?!  And the stuff that does fit is priced for rich people who never shop here!  (Removes dress, revealing regular clothes underneath, and flings it onto the floor in emphasis)  And the rest is made for super-tall people who also never shop here!

            Guy: (Has been seated in a comfy chair near Friend 2 the entire time and has not looked up from playing on his phone) Heh-heh-heh, no one ever goes to The Basement.

            Friend 1: (Pauses in disgust at interrupted tirade) Why would they?  Basements are creepy, and so was that laugh.

            Guy: (Finally looks up) Not a basement, The Basement.  (Friend 1 blinks blankly) The one here, on the lower level of the store.  (Blank blinking) It’s been there for about two years.  (Blank blinking) Seriously, you’ve never heard of it?!

            Friend 1: I think you’re making it up.

            Guy: There’re signs for it everywhere; look – (Points to a wall) there’s even one right next to your heard!

            Friend 1: (Turns to stare at a sign that reads “CHECK OUT EVEN MORE SAVINGS IN THE BASEMENT!  LOCATED IN THE LOWER LEVEL – USE THE ESCALATORS AND ELEVATORS IN ACCESSORIES”) Hmmmm….

            Guy: And there’s been at least 10 overhead announcements about it in the past hour.

            Friend 1: I’ve yet to hear one.

            Guy: There’s one literally going on right now!

            (Friend 1 tilts head)

            Overhead Announcement: …Basement, located in the lower level, for even more savings!

            Friend 1: Hmmmm….

            Guy: Marketing truly is a thankless job.

            Friend 2: I actually have noticed all that stuff –

            Friend 1: (Whirls on Friend 2) WHAT?!

            Friend 2: – but I figured there’d just be damage bins or racks of hideous rejects; you know, all the junk no one wants.

            Guy: (Leans back in reverie) Ah, that’s what everyone thinks, right up until the moment they go downstairs and experience the magic and wonder for themselves.

            Friend 1: What, knock-off brands?

           Guy: Hardly.  Think of it as a few steps above a dollar store: you’ll come out of there with bags and bags of pretty decent merch for literally a quarter of what you would’ve paid when they were up here.  Last year, I was able to replace my entire moth-eaten winter wardrobe in one trip to a single rack.

Friend 1: (Disbelievingly) No!

Guy: (Nods) A friend of mine once bought a bedroom set for 20 bucks because the style was out of season.

Friend 2: Whaaaaaaaaaaat????

Guy: And the pajamas are to die for.  The place is an oasis: it’s so beautiful, I could cry.

Friend 1: So what’s the catch – is there a cover charge?

Guy: No.

Friend 1: Secret password?

Guy: No, you just go downstairs.

Friend 1: But there must be booby traps or a maze to navigate or a riddle to solve, yes?

Guy: No, it’s just really really really cheap stuff!... That they want to get rid of and this is the best way to do it.

Friend 1: So if it’s such a paradise, what’re you doing up on this level at all, ever?

Guy: (Jerks head towards the fitting rooms) Serving out my sentence.

Friend 1: Oh, sorry.

Guy: Don’t be; it’s deserved.  (Returns to the phone)

(Friend 1 and Friend 2 stare at each other for a moment before Friend 1 gathers the dress from the floor and runs back to the fitting room to grab the other clothes left in there, and Friend 2 collects their bags)

Friend 2: (To Guy) Thanks for the advice – we’ll be heading there now.

Guy: (Looks up again) Ooh, could you do me a favor?  If I’m still here when you’re done, could you let me know if that all-inclusive grill set is still for sale?

Friend 2: (While Friend 1 continuously drops items from an overflowing pile) Sure – want us to ask them to hold it for you?

Guy: Nah, that just looks desperate.

Friend 1: (Throws entire pile of clothes at the reshelves rack, knocking it over; grabs Friend 2’s hand on the way out) Thanks a bunch – stay strong – we’ll write – byeeeeee!!

(In The Basement, Friend 1 and Friend 2 stand in the center of the floor with their eyes, mouths, and arms wide open)

Friend 2: There’s so much stuff –

Friend 1: And the quality’s not bad –

Friend 2: And not all the styles are atrocious –

Friend 1: And everything’s so darn cheap –

Friend 1 and Friend 2: SQUEEEEEE!!!

Basement Sales Associate: Hush, please: this is a sacred space.

Friend 1 and Friend 2: (Whisper) SQUEEEEEE!!!

Basement Sales Associate: (Smiles indulgently) It’s all right – off you go.

(Friend 1 and Friend 2 each grab a shopping cart and tear though the department picking up clothes, vacuum cleaners, table settings, snow shovels, air hockey tables, and everything else.  They wheel their overloaded carts to the cash registers and nearly topple them over as they snatch the impulse buys that are sitting alongside the register line, asking to be purchased)

Basement Cashier: (After taking 20 minutes to ring up every last item in Friend 1’s cart) That’ll be $14.10.

Friend 1: (Faints)

(Exiting from the elevator back onto the first floor, Friend 1 and Friend 2 slowly push their laden-down carts through the aisles of the store)

Friend 1: You know, I have a sneaking suspicion that out of all of these things, I really only needed one.

Friend 2: Oh yeah, most of mine are gifts so I don’t have to come back here at all during the holiday season.

Friend 1: Smart.

(As they pass the fitting room area they see Guy still seated in the comfy chair – he is surrounded by piles of bags and clothes, with only his head peeking out the top.  He spots the two and raises his eyebrows in inquiry)

Friend 2: Oh, oops – (Cups side of mouth to shout) Sorry dude!  Forgot to check for the grill!

Guy: Understandable!  (Sinks under the piles)

(Friend 1 and Friend 2 start pushing their carts again; they only advance a few feet before both carts collapse under the weight)

Friend 1: So… I guess we have to live here then?

Friend 2: That may have been the store’s diabolical plan all along.